Stuck in the Middle
by Ariel D
Summary: In order to help Kankuro, Gaara takes his brother on a search for the truth about Yondaime Kazekage. As a result, they grow closer and learn things they didn't imagine about their father. Story paused. Consider complete for now.
1. Chapter 1

**Stuck in the Middle**

板挟み

By Ariel-D

_Description: In order to help Kankuro, Gaara takes his brother on a search for the truth about Yondaime Kazekage. As a result, they learn things they didn't imagine and grow closer. Mild shonenai in later chapters._

_Disclaimer: Gaara, Kankuro, Temari, Baki, Yondaime Kazekage, and the Naruto-verse are copyrighted by Masashi Kishimoto and Weekly Shonen Jump. I am making no profit; this is just for fun._

_A/N: This is the kind of fanfic that works to fill in gaps in the canon. It will not Yondaime-bash. If you wish to Yondaime-bash, please move on._

_Roving narrator on purpose this time; unlike with my other stories, be prepared for lots of POV shifts._

_Translation notes:_  
_Ototo— younger brother_  
_Niisan— older brother_  
_Chichue— older form of father previously used by samurai_  
_Otousama— very formal form of father_

_Gift fic for EC._

* * *

**Chapter One**

Kankuro supposed he lived in a special kind of hell.

Many who visited the desert thought it hell. They considered it hot, lifeless, and waterless. Certainly it was hot in the daytime, but in many ways, those things weren't strictly true. Still, it didn't stop Kankuro from agreeing he lived in hell. Suna had been a hell for most his life.

Lying on his bed, knowing it was now past midnight, Kankuro stared at the cracked adobe ceiling of his bedroom. The Kazekage Mansion, like the rest of Suna, had seen its better days some 25 years earlier. The endless sandstorms of Wind wore at the buildings externally; internally, the mansion had been allowed to slowly wear out, Yondaime Kazekage having decided that he would not restore his mansion while the village suffered financially. He put a large section of his money to cultural upkeep, such as the mansion's library and art gallery, rather than to painting or the newest appliances. Gaara had opted to do the same.

But the rundown nature of his home was not what made Suna hell for Kankuro. No, Suna was a hell for far more basic reasons: family gone, bonds unmade, and time lost.

Kankuro had fought in the Fourth Shinobi World War for the sake of his family and friends. Gaara, Temari, and Baki — whom Kankuro and his siblings considered a second father — had all come back injured but alive. Also, Kankuro's three closest friends, all from the puppet corps — including his best friend, Shiro — had come back alive but injured. Kankuro himself had been poisoned _again,_and therefore had been unable to join Gaara and Temari in the fourth division after his ambush team had finished their mission. Not knowing how his siblings were fairing and whether they were alive or dead had taken a toll on Kankuro's sanity. Knowing his father had been resurrected from the dead and forced to fight his own people had taken a toll on his sanity. Knowing that Gaara had been forced to fight their father, given what had happened during their childhood, made his stomach clench in pain.

And, after hearing what Gaara had reported their father said, Kankuro had a lot of questions.

But for now there was supposed to be sleep. Not that Kankuro had gotten much in the past week since they had returned to Suna. Every night he'd stared at the ceiling, just as he was now, and tried not to let anxious thoughts eat his brains. Normally when he got like this, he hunted down Baki, Gaara, or Temari, all of whom would talk him through it — although in completely different ways. Tonight, though, Temari was out running with her friends, and Gaara was stuck in his office working through reams of paperwork leftover from the war. Even Baki, who had moved in to take care of them after their father was murdered, had gone to his adoptive father's house and hadn't returned yet.

Kankuro knew he was falling asleep only because his body began to feel heavy. He tried to chase from his mind all the anxious thoughts about injuries and recoveries, about his father brought back from the dead, and of course about the way the world had nearly ended.

The psych nins would be booked for months, no doubt.

But Kankuro neither wanted nor needed a psych nin; all he really needed was sleep and perhaps a bit of information. All he really needed was . . .

Consciousness slipped away.

* * *

Gold dust and sand rained from the sky. Kankuro couldn't see, couldn't breathe. Grains burnt his nose, tore into his lungs. He coughed to expel them, only to inhale them again. He held his breath. His lungs burned.

_Gaara!_

He knew they were fighting. He ran, but his body moved in slow motion. With the screen of gold dust and sand hanging in the air like volcanic ash, he had to find them by their chakra. Identical chakra. He would know them anywhere, anywhere. Auburn-haired and blue green-eyed, like him. Blood of blood — his. He had to stop them from killing each other. He needed them.

_Ototo! Chichue!_

Why did it always come to this? What had happened? What had gone wrong?

Kankuro stumbled up a sharp incline, fell to his knees. Jutting rocks cut open his knees. A rumble in the air told him a massive release was occurring. He flattened himself to the ground, feeling movement in the air above him. _Don't kill me! Don't put me in the middle! I love you both. I'm here. Don't you sense me? _But his chakra was quieter — the fine, diffuse chakra needed to mold chakra strings. Or heal wounded people, had he chosen to follow his uncle's path.

He couldn't hold his breath any longer. He inhaled, choked, and screamed hoarsely. "Stop! Goddammit, just stop! You'll kill each other! Don't do it!"

But no voices or faces emerged from the ashes. There was only a sky raining dark dust, all the sand and gold turned black.

Hell.

* * *

Gaara awakened his brother with a touch. A touch was all it took. Kankuro was clearly having a nightmare; the entire floor was supercharged with his chakra. Also, when Gaara had knocked on his door, Kankuro hadn't responded, only groaned. Knowing Kankuro had been having nightmares all week, Gaara barged in, reaching down and pressing his fingers to his shoulder.

Gaara was the only person alive who could awaken Kankuro safely.

As Gaara expected, Kankuro jerked into consciousness violently, thrashing and punching blindly. He yelled an inaudible phrase, flinging his arm right at Gaara's stomach. Sand intercepted the blow instantly. Even after Kankuro was sitting up, gasping, Gaara still sensed he hadn't cleared his mind. With careful movements, Gaara reached over and turned on the light. Kankuro looked toward him with a clearly dazed expression, blinked a few times, then seemed to realize where he was and whom Gaara was.

Kankuro could not be brought to consciousness quickly with much ease. He had always been the type to awaken in stages, with violent results if someone forced the issue, although no one was sure why. Kankuro himself never talked about it.

"Ototo," Kankuro whispered, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

Settling on the edge of Kankuro's bed, Gaara watched his brother solemnly. "Niisan . . . you're still having nightmares. Is it the same nightmare?"

Kankuro looked away. "Yeah." He had dreamt about Gaara and their father killing each other every single night. Sometimes their father was under the Edo Tensei; sometimes he wasn't. Sometimes it was the War; other times it was their childhood. Details changed, but the content didn't.

Reaching out, Gaara stroked his hand down Kankuro's arm. "Want to talk about it?" His voice grew soft. All the villagers who waxed poetic about Gaara's amazing stoicism had never seen him behind closed doors with his family after the Konoha Invasion. Gaara had built his stoic mask to defend himself against Shukaku and his life. Once he understood Baki and his siblings were safe, he had slowly lowered it with them, beginning with Kankuro.

Kankuro, whom Gaara had finally seen had been trying to communicate with him and reach out to him all that time.

"It was more of the same." Kankuro flopped back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling.

Gaara noted that Kankuro was slowly developing black rings under his eyes. Gaara decided that much more and, save for having eyebrows, Kankuro would look even more like him. There had been a time when Kankuro had dyed his auburn hair dark brown to try to look less like his family and more individual. He'd stopped doing it after Gaara's abduction by Akatsuki, saying he wished to look like his family instead.

There was a pause, and then Kankuro continued. "This time I couldn't see you guys. I was just getting suffocated by your sand and gold dust. It all turned to ash."

Gaara frowned. He really wanted to be able to help Kankuro, who had tirelessly attended to him after Akatsuki's abduction of him. The loss of Shukaku had left Gaara struggling to sleep properly, suffering with nightmares, and in the end, developing a virus. Kankuro had sat with him through all of that, tending to his every need, and talking him through every point of pain and confusion. Gaara had already enlisted Kankuro as his first bond in Suna. Kankuro's devotion to him had cemented them together in such a way that Gaara would never be able to do without Kankuro now.

As such, Gaara wanted to return all the love and care Kankuro had given him.

"The issue of my relationship — or lack thereof — with Otousama still bothers you," Gaara said gently. He reached out and squeezed Kankuro's hand. Kankuro had taught him all about physical affection, holding him and hugging him until Gaara adjusted to touch. He had received little touch before, especially once Shukaku had awakened fully and raged out of control. Now he understood that physical touch was the way people fed each other chakra and spiritually built bonds of love.

Kankuro sighed. One of the early sources of tension during their childhood had been that Gaara feared and hated their father and Kankuro didn't. Since Kankuro had refused to join in the angst, Gaara had ruled him one of the villains, having never suspected that Kankuro had loved Gaara and wanted to be close to him all that time. It wasn't that Kankuro hadn't been able to comprehend Gaara's feelings; it was only that Kankuro could tell something hadn't quite added up. After all, their father had never mistreated him. Granted, it had hurt that their father had worked seventy to ninety hours a week; Kankuro had gotten little time with his father. But his father hadn't been abusive toward him. Or Temari, either. That was one thing that had made their first trip to the Chuunin Exam — or rather the Konoha invasion as it turned out — so traumatic. Their father had suddenly seemed to be someone else, and for a whole month, he had been standoffish, quiet, grumpy, and disinterested.

Then again, that was because their father _had _been someone else. Literally.

"I can't help it," Kankuro muttered. "All this terrible shit went down between you two, and I knew it didn't have to be that way. Chichue loved me. He loved Temari. He loved Kaasan. I don't know what the hell happened with you, why it turned out that way, why it had to be so ugly and horrible and — " _And why I had to get stuck in the middle of it._

Middle child. Stuck in the middle of a six year long horrendous fight. Kankuro had thought he would shatter before it was over. The only two good things that had come out of his father's death had been the cessation of hostilities and Gaara's relaxation.

Gaara squeezed his hand gently. "I'm sorry. Until this week I was completely unaware that it had tortured you." As a child, he had been so consumed by Shukaku, Shukaku's internal attacks on him, and his own pain that he hadn't seen much into the lives of other people. He could read people's psychologies, but that wasn't the same as truly connecting with them and feeling their pain.

"I know." Kankuro rolled onto his side, facing away from Gaara. He understood the hows and whys of Gaara's delayed realizations. He also didn't hold it against him. Carrying this wound about being stuck in the middle, though, was made no less painful by the lack of understanding around him. Temari's personality and worldview, and the differences between their father's and her relationship and their father's and Kankuro's relationship, had cushioned her. Temari's lingering aches were attached to completely different issues. "I just . . . I don't understand why it happened. And you both were clearly hurting over it. I'm glad you two got to talk during the War, I'm glad you've found peace on the topic . . ." _But I haven't._

"But you haven't," Gaara said, as though reading his mind. Gaara was proud to have gotten to know his brother this well. He had wanted and needed to be this close to him. "Very well. We need to get to the bottom of this so you can have peace also. Where do we need to start?"

"I dunno." Kankuro sounded exhausted with confusion.

Gaara decided Kankuro really needed sleep. He also knew that Kankuro was unlikely to get any if left alone and summarily decided to stay. He scooted up and leaned against the headboard. "Just talk," he suggested. "Tell me whatever comes to mind." He continued to rub Kankuro's shoulder and arm gently.

There was a pause in which Kankuro simply stared at the wall, and then he exhaled heavily. "Well . . . I guess I have to start with the parts that confuse me most. How does one parent treat two children so completely differently? Chichue always . . . when he was home, I mean . . . always made time for me and was really tuned in to me." For example, they'd had this special routine that was theirs alone. His father would wake him up every morning by coming in and sitting on his bed. He would stroke his arm, just like Gaara was doing now, and call his name softly until he was as conscious as he was going to get in stage one. Then, until he got too big to carry, he picked him up and carried him around the house as he started his day. Kankuro would rest his head on his father's shoulder, semi-conscious, and just snuggle against him until they reached the breakfast table. They'd eat with Temari, who would chat with their father softly until Kankuro woke up all the way. It had been special. When Kankuro had gotten too big to easily carry, they had simply accommodated their ritual.

"I'm not sure that tells us much," Gaara said softly. "My friends tell me that parents do vary in their interactions with each child and not always in a good way. Extreme favoritism could take place. What can I say, Niisan? I was the host of Shukaku, and I couldn't control it. Otousama's job was to protect the village. He decided this included protecting the village from me using any means necessary. The good of the many outweighs the good of the few." Or one.

Kankuro shook his head. "No, that's part of what doesn't make sense. Chichue loved children. The younger the child, the better he was with them. He couldn't kill a child for anything. Which brings me to my point: if Chichue had really wanted you to be dead, he would've killed you himself. He would've smushed you with a gold dust coffin and been done with it. Even when you were twelve, you were no match for him. You only surpassed him here recently."

Gaara stared at Kankuro's back, his hand freezing on his arm.

The instant he heard it, he knew it was true.

For a long moment, Gaara couldn't respond. He was numb with the obviousness and the shock. Then he inhaled slowly, pulling himself back together. "You're right, Niisan. Something doesn't add up here." He had no idea why he'd never thought of it. He supposed he'd just be so afraid and angry he couldn't think objectively.

"And it's driving me insane," Kankuro muttered, clearly upset by it.

"Then we will find you answers," Gaara said. He would do anything to help his brother.

And in the act of saving his brother, Gaara realized they might save them both.

* * *

_A/N: Hey, guys. I want to thank you for all your reviews on my other Sand Sibs fics over the last few months. I got married last month, so I've been crazy busy since the spring. I actually have been writing fanfic during all this craziness, but not anything I had time to revise into postable form. I'm not sure what the coming months will look like, so I don't know how often I'll post new stories. This story, though, is complete, so no worries there. (My husband loves _Naruto, _too, btw!)_

_Note on Kankuro's eye and hair color: Kishimoto's whole visual argument with his character designs is that related people look alike — same eyes, same hair color, etc. The animators' choice for Kankuro's hair doesn't make sense. Yondaime, like Gaara, has auburn hair, and Kankuro clearly looks like him. Ergo, Kankuro actually has auburn hair, too. (Karura should have been animated with blonde hair instead of brown due to Yasahmaru's and Temari's hair being blonde. I hope they fix that when they reach her again in future episodes.) Yondaime and Kankuro are given pupils with no irises, granted, but it's clear the two eye colors possible are either light blue-green or dark blue-green, given Temari's and Gaara's eyes. Either way, Yondaime and Kankuro should have some shade of blue-green for their eyes. My stories will reflect this from now on._

_Thank you to all who review!_


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N on naming Yondaime Kazekage: _**_Two artists on DA, who created a Yondaime Kazekage fanclub, opted to name Yondaime Kazekage 'Kazehiko' by combining the word "Kazekage" and the latter half of Yondaime's voice actor's name, "-hiko." Although I like the idea, I opted for Hirohiko, instead. ('Hiro' means 'monarch/ruler.')_

_Translation notes:_  
_Ototo— younger brother_  
_Niisan— older brother_  
_Chichue— older form of father previously used by samurai_  
_Otousama— very formal form of father_  
_Kaasan— mom_  
_Ojiisama— very formal form of grandfather_  
_Sensei— teacher_

_Thank you to Slilversolitude, Cometflight525, and Guest for your reviews!  
_

* * *

**Chapter Two**

When Kankuro awakened in the morning, he felt warm. Far warmer than usual. It wasn't unpleasant; on the contrary, it was incredibly nice. He felt warm and fuzzy, cared for, protected . . .

Not alone.

The grogginess cleared out of Kankuro's brain quicker than normal, although he didn't snap all the way awake. He was awake enough to register an arm around his waist and a warm body pressed against his back. With slow movements, he turned his head and looked over his shoulder. Sure enough, Gaara was asleep behind him, having stayed and held him the rest of the night.

_No wonder I didn't have more nightmares, _Kankuro thought, smiling faintly.

Gaara stirred at Kankuro's movements and gave him a small smile in return. "Good morning," he murmured.

"'Morning." Kankuro decided this was a welcome change. He'd been desperately trying to protect both of his siblings in various different ways for most his life, his little brother especially. Waves of comfort had been aimed Gaara's way ever since Gaara had gotten control of Shukaku, in fact. Now that care was being funneled right back into Kankuro.

And with that thought, Kankuro achieved full consciousness far more quickly than he ever had save for being startled awake. He regretted it immediately. His thoughts instantly returned to their father and Gaara.

"Gaara . . ." Kankuro sighed, depressed. "You say you understand why Chichue did what he did, although you don't condone it. And I know you think he's evil — " God, it hurt to say that. " — because an apology and a piece of the truth isn't enough to take out the pain of rejection and attempted assassination. But . . ."

Since he still had his arm around Kankuro's waist, Gaara squeezed him gently. "I know," he replied. "You need to get to the bottom of this. Sleeping didn't change my mind any; I agree something doesn't add up." He paused. "And you'd be surprised how much it helped to hear him say he was wrong and have him reveal that Kaasan loved me. Although I grant you that forgiveness is . . . complicated."

Kankuro knew Gaara had chosen to "forgive" their father prior to the War simply as a way to cope, but that had only put a band-aid over Kankuro's wound because of its nature. He had numbed himself to the pain of having watched his father and Gaara at odds — gone into denial, really. Now it was all back up to the surface, burning him. He had tried for years to bridge the gap between his father and Gaara, but even now he felt he'd never done a thing to help. Nor did he feel like the gap had been bridged.

"What you really did wasn't forgiveness," Kankuro said quietly. "You rationalized for the sake of your sanity, which only makes sense. But real forgiveness means either getting recompense for the damage prior to letting go of the offense or choosing to radically forgive the debt, as in erase it."

Gaara sighed. "You're right. Recompense is impossible, and I have been too hurt to just radically forgive the debt. You've sensed that all along; that's part of why it's torturing you."

Pulling from Gaara's grasp, Kankuro sat up. "I'm not asking you to radically forgive him. I would never do that because I will never forgive Ojiisama as long as I live." Their paternal grandfather had physically abused Kankuro twice and sodomized him once. Kankuro had finally gotten up the courage to tell his father about it, and fortunately he had been believed. He had never had to see his grandfather ever again, plus shortly thereafter, his grandfather had died. Kankuro considered the man truly evil and was glad he was dead.

Kankuro understood forgiveness better now because he'd gone to the head priest at Central Temple to discuss his grandfather's abuse of him. Originally, he had thought he had to just magically get over his pain so that he could forgive his grandfather and "be a good person." However, the priest had explained that real forgiveness meant restoring fellowship with someone, meaning that full forgiveness wasn't possible for everyone. Kankuro would never agree to be near his grandfather again, so what he'd really sought was healing of his wounds, through which he could gain peace and eventually stop being angry. He didn't want to end up consumed with hate, after all.

"I understand not forgiving," Kankuro pointed out. "I just wish — "

Gaara held up his hand. "I know," he said gently. "So let's start finding answers."

"Where? How?" Kankuro had no idea where to go to or whom to speak with because he had no idea what he was looking at.

"I honestly don't know. So we'll start by asking Baki what to do."

Kankuro nodded. Baki had been their dad for the last four years; as such, they went to him regardless of what kind of problem they had.

Kankuro only hoped Baki had a solution for this one.

* * *

When Kankuro and Gaara entered the kitchen, Baki looked up at them from the table and immediately knew they had Serious Business. "How may I help you?" he asked them, always concerned when they looked this grave.

Kankuro sat in his chair, staring at the plate of food awaiting him: omelet, rice balls, fish, and tea. Notably he was already wide awake. "Baki . . . we have questions about Chichue."

Settling in his own chair, which was by Kankuro's, Gaara folded his arms on the table in front of his plate. "Specifically, Kankuro has pointed out a logical fallacy I've never considered before."

Baki smiled faintly. _That's my Gaara. Equal parts logic and idealism. _"And what would that be?"

"If Otousama wished me dead, he would have assassinated me personally, using gold dust coffin, the night I failed his test." Gaara gazed at Baki steadily. "After all, he single-handedly stopped Shukaku from raging out of control that night. It wouldn't have taken him any further effort to murder me when I was merely six."

Kankuro sighed and poked miserably at his food.

Baki gazed at them. "I wondered when this day would come. Because you were so traumatized — " He looked to Gaara. " — I wasn't going to speak of your father until you asked me to. And because you were so traumatized by your father's death — " He looked to Kankuro instead. " — I was waiting for you to mention him as well."

"Oh." Kankuro glanced away. He had talked to Baki about absolutely everything, even including sex, except one thing: his father. He had talked to his best friend, Shiro, about the way he'd ended up in the middle between his father and Gaara, but he hadn't talked to Baki because he didn't want to put Baki in the middle between Gaara and him.

"I understand," Gaara murmured. "The topic was . . . taboo . . . with me. Until now."

Baki nodded. There was one thing that was worrying him now, however, that had not worried him before: Kankuro's apparent belief that his father really had wished to murder Gaara. "You didn't know?" he asked Kankuro softly. "All this time I thought . . . He didn't say anything to you? I was under the impression he'd cobbled together an explanation to ease your pain."

Kankuro stared at Baki. "Didn't explain what?" His heart pounded in his chest painfully. He didn't dare pick up his chopsticks, given the way his hands now shook.

For a moment, Baki was too horrified by this oversight to continue. "I'm so sorry." He watched Kankuro closely, his heart aching for him. "Something your father said once made me think he was trying to work out a way to offer you at least some kind of explanation. I didn't know you didn't know."

"Didn't know what?" Kankuro's voice rose sharply.

Baki shook his head slowly. "Of course your father didn't want to kill Gaara. As you said, if he'd wanted to, Gaara would have died at six before Shukaku raged any further out of control. Also, your father wouldn't have brought Gaara home to live here after Yashamaru-san died."

Gaara stared at Baki with wide eyes. "If Otousama didn't, then who did? Because clearly someone did. And Otousama took responsibility for it when I spoke with him during the War. Also — "

"Also," Baki interrupted gently, "the assassination attempts didn't stop when your father died."

What little color Gaara had drained from him. He stared at Baki silently for long moments. "You're right. They didn't." There had been two more attempts after his father had died, which he did not count in the six since he knew his father wasn't responsible.

"Then who . . .?" Kankuro began biting the inside of his lip — a habit he hadn't indulged in since he was fourteen.

"Originally, your paternal grandfather, who was backed by the Council," Baki said gravely. "After he died, the Council, believing his logic to be sound and being scared by Shukaku, continued."

Kankuro felt just as pale as Gaara now. "Ojiisama? God! Fucking bastard!" He wanted to punch something. "I should've known! I should've known. _Of course_it would be him."

Given he knew what had happened between Kankuro and their grandfather, Gaara scooted closer to Kankuro and ran his arm around his waist. They both watched Baki with misery.

"So why did Otousama take responsibility and credit for what Ojiisama really wanted? Why did he still give the order if he didn't want to give it?" Gaara was confused all over again.

Kankuro shoved away his plate and folded his arms on the table, then thunked his head down on them. _I don't want to be in the middle of this anymore!_

"To understand that is to understand your father's relationship with his father . . . and his view of responsibility," Baki said.

"But we can't," Kankuro groaned. "He's dead!" Just having to say that still kicked him in the chest after all this time.

Baki tilted his head. "Which is why I've waited for this day. I'm going to tell you what I know about your father."

Kankuro dared to look up. "I know you've been on the Council awhile now, but you were a junior councilman while Chichue was alive. How well did you know him?"

Baki smirked. "You think Tadashi was my sensei, don't you?"

Tadashi was Baki's adoptive father. "You've always said he was." Kankuro was confused.

"Only at the dojo." Baki had specialized in taijutsu and had therefore had taken extra classes.

Kankuro and Gaara traded looks.

"You have to be kidding me," Kankuro said, stunned.

Gaara was no less surprised. "Otousama was the captain of your genin team when you graduated?"

Baki smiled. "I graduated at eight, and I made chuunin at twelve. I wasn't assigned my own team until I was fifteen and your father made Kazekage. So I was on Hirohiko-sensei's team for seven years."

"Hirohiko . . . sensei?" Kankuro repeated. Baki had never called their father anything other than Kazekage-sama the entire time they'd known him. _Wait. Just like he calls Gaara 'Kazekage-sama' everywhere except in the house, _he realized. "Oh my God."

Baki shrugged faintly. "Why else do you think I scored the position of jonin captain for the genin team comprised entirely of Yondaime Kazekage's children?"

Gaara closed his eyes, paused, and then opened them again. "This issue hasn't just hurt me. It's hurt Kankuro as well. Please tell us about our father."

Baki nodded. "There are two main things you need to understand here: the power and influence of your grandfather and the non-relationship your father had with him, and the way your father viewed his own responsibilities. So let's start with your father and grandfather." He gazed at Kankuro. "And that means telling you a few stories from my own past."

"That's cool." Kankuro didn't care as long as he could get all this pain and confusion cleared up.

Not to mention knowing more about his two fathers had to be a good thing.

* * *

Baki sprinted through the streets, making his way to Suna's biosphere, the combined park and research center most people preferred visiting over the scorching hot rock gardens, despite their beauty. The biosphere's park side included grassy lawns, trees, fountains, benches, playgrounds, and concession stands. Team Hirohiko always met on the oldest playground, which consisted only of a four-swing swing set, a merry-go-round, and a few benches. Hirohiko, who was always early, would wait on the benches. Given that his team, which had been together for two years, consisted of three ten-year-olds, Hirohiko had a habit of letting the early birds play on the swings while they awaited the others. Baki had a long habit of getting there first, and since today was Hirohiko's birthday, he was determined to be a half-hour early, which should be the same time Hirohiko arrived.

Barely slowing when he reached the biosphere's doors, Baki zipped past a woman pushing a stroller and ran across the fields and through the trees to the old playground, which was in the back corner of the now much larger biosphere. As predicted, Hirohiko was reclining on the bench facing the swings, his legs and arms crossed.

"Hirohiko-sensei!" Baki yelled as he ran up behind him. "Happy birthday!" He had a little present stuffed in his pouch that his adoptive father had helped him pick out and wrap. It was Hirohiko's twentieth birthday.

Turning halfway, Hirohiko glanced over his left shoulder and gave Baki a small smile. "Good morning, Baki."

Baki ran up to Hirohiko, immediately throwing out his arms to hug him, only to halt abruptly — so abruptly he nearly tripped. A black ring with a blue aura encircled Hirohiko's right eye, which was badly bloodshot; in addition, the right side of his lips was split. There was no swelling, but no doubt that was a med nin's handiwork. "Hirohiko-sensei . . ." Baki's heart ached. He was also instantly enraged.

"It's okay." Hirohiko held up both hands, clearly trying to stave off Baki's upcoming rampage.

"The hell it is!" Baki had learned how to curse early in life. "Your father did this!" He knew that for many reasons, not the least of which was the fact that Hirohiko's father was left-handed, and this was left-handed injury.

Hirohiko turned pale. "Not so loud." He glanced around, his good eye widening. He relaxed and turned back when he found no chakra signatures nearby.

"You're going to move out and stay out now, right?" Baki asked. Twenty was the age of majority in Suna. "You're going to move out, get your own place . . . You won't let him do this anymore, right?" The fact Hirohiko's father abused him wrung Baki's soul. His own parents had been abusive, but he'd been saved, put into foster care, and adopted by his favorite person in the world — his karate sensei, who loved him deeply. The fact Hirohiko hadn't also been saved bothered him so much he sometimes lost sleep over it.

Hirohiko stared at his lap, smiling sadly. "Yes, Baki. I'm moving in with my boyfriend." When his team had figured out he was bisexual, Hirohiko had panicked, almost as though he expected something terrible to happen. Baki and his teammates hadn't cared, however.

"Good. I guess." Baki didn't like Hirohiko's boyfriend. He was better than Hirohiko's parents, but he was still too pushy. Baki wanted Hirohiko to find some really nice man or woman and marry. In fact, he rather hoped it was a woman so Hirohiko could have kids of his own. "You should've been allowed to live alone before." It was an old argument between them. As soon as Baki had been saved, he'd started pushing for Hirohiko to move out. Anyone who was genin and over age thirteen could rent their own apartment in Suna; shinobi teenagers were given special rights that civilians didn't have. Hirohiko had tried, but . . .

Hirohiko's gaze slid to the side. "Oh. You know. The Ambassador would just find a way to drag me back. He has his methods . . ." Hirohiko never called his father "father" except to his face. Any other time Hirohiko referred to him as his position: Ambassador. Hirohiko's father was Suna's ambassador to Wind's daimyo and had been for the last twenty five years. The man had become radically powerful, befriending the daimyo and marrying Sandaime Kazekage's sister. He'd also become a seated member of Suna's Council of Elders, using every route he had to control the goings on in his village.

The great irony of all of this was The Ambassador had actually been born in Kirigakure and had fled there as a twelve-year-old due to widespread fear and hate for his kekkei genkai: ice release.

Baki thought ice release was very fitting for The Ambassador, given the man seemed to have a heart made of ice. "Well, you're a full adult now. You can do what you want. He can't make you do anything you don't like anymore."

Hirohiko chuckled nervously. "Oh? Really?"

"What do you mean?" Baki was confused. "Your father can't boss you around anymore. You're free!"

Hirohiko chewed on the undamaged side of his lower lip. It was a nervous habit of his. "Oh. Ah. Yeah."

Baki knew that The Ambassador was a powerful man, both as a shinobi and politically. In fact, he was powerful enough to be Kazekage, except no one would let him take that position since he wasn't Suna-born. To make him ambassador had been a stretch enough. But Baki knew Hirohiko was powerful, too. Hirohiko was the only person other than Sandaime who could stop Shukaku when its host lost control of it. Baki didn't understand why Hirohiko kept losing these fights with his father. "And you can beat him up if he tries to bully you again, right? You're strong!"

"Baki . . ." Hirohiko paused.

Baki knew there was something more going on here. He could sense the complication. However, he didn't understand what it was. He only knew that whatever The Ambassador said tended to go, the only exception being that The Ambassador didn't want Hirohiko to date men, but he had dated an equal number of men and women. Everything else . . .

Over time, Baki had won Hirohiko's confidence, so Hirohiko had told him a number of details: Hirohiko had tried to grow out his hair; The Ambassador had chopped it back off. Hirohiko had tried to move out twice before; The Ambassador had dragged him back. Hirohiko preferred brightly colored clothes, such as red; The Ambassador made sure he wore nothing but black and grey. Hirohiko wanted to live a quiet life; The Ambassador was prepping him to be Yondaime Kazekage.

Granted, Baki thought Hirohiko would make a wonderful Kazekage; Hirohiko seemed to naturally take charge of and straighten out situations. His command persona was vastly different — and more confident — than his personal one. But despite that, every single thing The Ambassador did hurt Hirohiko and enraged Baki, including grooming him to be Kazekage.

Sensing Hirohiko's discomfort and fear, Baki climbed into his lap and snuggled up to him. His teammates had developed this tendency, too; Hirohiko was very huggable. At first, Hirohiko hadn't known what to do with the hugs, but Baki understood. His adoptive father had to teach him about hugs, too. They were a learned behavior. "I'll protect you!" he declared.

Hirohiko smiled and hugged Baki close, rubbing his back. "You're a good man," he said quietly.

Baki giggled. "I'm not a man yet."

"But you will be," Hirohiko murmured. "And when you are, you'll be a good one."

Wrapping both arms around Hirohiko, Baki gave him a squeeze. Then his attention got caught on the ugly black eye again. "Why are you still hurt? Didn't you see a med nin?"

"The Ambassador summoned his personal one." Hirohiko sighed. "But I didn't want to be late. I knew you'd be here early."

Baki suspected Hirohiko just wanted out of the house — and maybe not to have the evidence erased. He knew evidence had been needed for the custody trial when his ex-parents got in trouble. Evidence was important. "I still don't understand why you can't just turn him in."

Hirohiko snorted faintly. "One does not turn in The Ambassador."

Although he'd heard similar answers before, Baki couldn't accept them. Was it really possible that The Ambassador had so much power in Suna that he was above the law? He'd asked his adoptive father that question once, and he had looked very grim when he answered. Baki was still trying to sort out that explanation, but the best he could tell, it could be boiled down to "yes."

Baki decided abruptly there was too much grimness and opted to cheer Hirohiko up. "I got you a birthday present."

"You didn't need to do that." Hirohiko looked quite surprised and flustered.

"Sure I did!" Baki loved Hirohiko. Besides, he knew Hirohiko's parents never gave him good presents. They barely gave him any gifts at all.

Except a black eye, apparently.

Baki fished the little box out of his hip sack and handed it over to Hirohiko. "Happy birthday. Or happier, I hope." He resumed hugging Hirohiko, laying his head on his shoulder.

"You're precious," Hirohiko murmured. "Do you know that?" He opened the present by reaching around Baki and unwrapping it. The box was covered in shiny green paper with a white bow. Hirohiko undid it carefully, setting aside the bow and paper as though they were costly items. Then he opened the little box. Inside was a red, stainless steel ring with golden dragons racing around the band.

"I got it because red is one of your favorite colors, plus the gold dragons remind me of you." Baki grinned. He felt confident Hirohiko would like it; he had noticed Hirohiko eyeing similar jewelry in most every town they stopped in during missions. Sadly, Hirohiko never bought himself anything.

Hirohiko pulled out the ring, clearly speechless. He held it up in the sunlight, which made it gleam; suddenly his eyes shone as well. "Thank you, Baki," he whispered rather thickly. "It's beautiful. It's also the nicest birthday present I've ever had."

"Awesome!" Baki was thrilled that his sensei liked it. He leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Wear it every day!" He wanted Hirohiko to be happy.

Hirohiko tried the ring out on a few fingers, finding that it fit his middle finger best. Baki had had to guess the size of Hirohiko's long, slim fingers, and his adoptive father had helped.

"This is wonderful." Hirohiko held up his hand, examining the ring. "Thank you, Baki," he repeated, then kissed him on the top of his head.

_You're wonderful, _Baki thought. Hirohiko took excellent care of his team on their missions, using his gold dust to protect them; also, he was patient, understanding, and never pushed them too hard. Baki thought he would make a wonderful father someday, if only Hirohiko could find a gentle woman who would love him and take good care of him.

The only problem with that plan was that those kids would have The Ambassador as a grandfather.

* * *

Kankuro gazed at Baki, tears standing in his eyes. "Yeah . . . that's the dad I remember."

Beside him, Gaara had his arms crossed over his stomach. "I . . . see. I wish I could've known that father instead." His gaze fell to the table. "However, I did not."

Baki nodded. "I'm sorry, Gaara. The man you knew — or, rather, the man you experienced — was not your father at all. Not even close."

"I suppose that is a relief." Gaara's brow furrowed. "However, it doesn't make my experiences any less real or valid."

"I would never try to invalidate your pain," Baki assured him. "My birth parents abused me. Did you know that?"

Gaara shook his head. "I thought your parents died."

Baki snorted faintly. "Oh, they died, all right. But not before losing custody of me." He inhaled and exhaled slowly. "No . . . What I experienced was abuse and neglect. The kind that makes your every feeling and need seem irrelevant and invalid. I would never do that to another." He watched Gaara carefully. "What you feel is real. What you experienced was another man's performance."

"Performance?" Gaara sounded shocked. "My father's assassination attempts . . . his assessments of me as a failure . . . his test . . . all of these things were a performance?" Tears sprang to his eyes; he looked away. "Why?"

Kankuro's stomach clenched. Granted, Baki had gotten further in bridging the gap than anyone else, but still the tension remained: the difference between the loving, if overworked, father Kankuro knew and the murderous fiend Gaara knew. _Oh, God. Please. I can't stand this tension anymore._

"As it turned out, it was the only way." Baki sighed. "Your grandfather exerted a lot of pressure on your father to have Shukaku sealed into you because he was convinced that it was Suna's ticket back to prosperity. Your grandfather believed that someone with magnetism release would be able to control Shukaku." He paused. "Had Shukaku not already been sealed into another when your father was born, he would've been the host instead. In fact, when Shukaku was first extracted from its previous host, your grandfather launched a campaign to have it sealed into your father."

Gaara felt cold, so cold he couldn't feel his lips. "How did he escape?"

Baki picked up his chopsticks, examining them idly. "Your father was already twenty years old, and your grandfather had already begun prepping him to be Yondaime Kazekage. Sandaime agreed that your father was the best candidate, so he categorically refused making Hirohiko the host, saying that it was too dangerous for a host to be Kazekage."

"Oh." Gaara felt queasy. He stared at his breakfast, knowing he couldn't eat it now. "That's . . . unsurprising."

Setting down the chopsticks again, Baki looked at Gaara. "As you know, you were no more able to control Shukaku than any of the previous hosts. Due to your magnetism release, though, you did well until you were about four. This initial success bought your father relief and hope. However, Shukaku was Shukaku. It only lasted so long."

Gaara shuddered faintly. Sometimes he still had nightmares that Shukaku had returned; sometimes he thought he could still hear the beast's voice whispering in his skull. "I did the best I could. But once I was told Kaasan never loved me and Yashamaru committed suicide . . ."

"That was a calculated bet that misfired." Baki rubbed his brow with his fingers. "I'm not saying your father was perfect and never made a mistake. I am saying he had the right motivations."

Kankuro certainly hoped Baki could help Gaara believe that — for both their sakes.

"Right motivations? Like what?" Gaara sounded incredulous. "I mean, I know he had to protect the village and villagers from Shukaku; I've understood that for two years now. But lying to me about Kaasan, or having Yashamaru do it . . ."

"Even if it could've saved you from the assassination attempts?" Baki asked gently.

Gaara stared at him.

Kankuro abruptly wished he had his father back, and not for the first time.

"Perhaps I should explain what happened the day your father had to issue the assassination order for the first time," Baki ventured.

"Yes. Please do." Gaara hunched in on himself slightly.

Kankuro prayed for a miracle.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Thank you to MidniteCurse4Eternity, InoShikaChou, and Mystical Sand for their reviews!_

_Translation notes:  
Chichue— older form of father previously used by samurai  
Otousama— very formal form of father  
Kaasan— mom  
Ojiisama— very formal form of grandfather  
Sensei— teacher _

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Baki gazed at his adopted sons, knowing they were both torn up by this process; however, he knew it was time to explain to them what had happened when Gaara was six. For the sake of Gaara's peace of mind, he needed to know. And Kankuro . . .

In the four years Baki had been their sensei and adoptive father, he hadn't been blind to Kankuro's plight. Kankuro had ended up in the middle between his siblings and between his siblings and their father. Temari had accused Kankuro of being the favorite. This hadn't been true, Baki knew. Hirohiko had been better at communicating with boys, but he hadn't loved his sons more than Temari. Temari had slowly come to terms with that over the last four years. She had asked about her father two years earlier, silently processed everything Baki told her, and then relaxed. In fact, her entire attitude, which had won her the title of bitch when she was younger, had shifted and smoothed out. Now she was independent, assertive, and risk-taking, not to mention a fine jonin and leader. Her need to prove herself, especially to men, had died after she understood her father better.

Kankuro and Gaara, however, were both trailing her. Baki hoped he could catch them up now. Kankuro had been eaten alive in his attempts to keep the peace, and Gaara had been shattered by all the violence.

"It actually began about mid-morning that summer," Baki said, beginning his next story. "I remember because the academy had just let out for break, and I got the strangest notion that I should stop by and check on your father . . ."

* * *

When he approached the Kazekage's office door, Baki knocked and merely said, "It's me." After all, he had known Hirohiko for sixteen years now, and his previous sensei would always be his friend.

There was a pause, then a tired "Come in" followed.

Baki opened the door, stepped in, closed it, and bowed.

Hirohiko was sitting at his desk with his head in his hands.

Immediately, Baki was worried. "Hirohiko-sensei . . ." At Hirohiko's own insistence, Baki called him 'sensei' — or more often than not simply by his personal name — when they were alone, not Hirohiko-sama or Kazekage-sama. Hirohiko claimed it made him feel saner. "What happened?" His bad feeling returned. "Is this about Gaara?"

With a pained sigh, Hirohiko nodded without lifting his head. "Chiyo has been to speak with me."

"She thinks Gaara is a failure," Baki guessed. Three more villagers had died the previous afternoon; Shukaku was clearly more powerful than his host.

"Yes." Hirohiko lowered his hands, letting his arms fall to his desk. "Her tone was more like 'I told you so.' But when Karura was pregnant, The Ambassador insisted we had to make a bid to convince the daimyo not to farm out the remainder of our missions to Konoha." His tone was bitter.

Baki was well aware of that colossal showdown. Hirohiko had been trapped with Chiyo on one side and his father on the other. "Using someone with magnetism release was our best chance at controlling and employing Shukaku safely," he murmured, remembering the logic used at the time.

"But clearly no one can control that demon." Hirohiko stared at the piece of paper in front of him.

A pulse of fear shot through Baki when he noticed the paper. "Oh my God . . . Hirohiko. What have you been asked to do?"

Hirohiko looked up at him, his eyes seeming grey with his pain. "Kill my own son."

Baki's heart stuttered in his chest. "They want you to extract Shukaku."

"I have a 'choice.'" Hirohiko snorted. "We can either arrange to have Shukaku extracted, which will kill Gaara, or we can assassinate Gaara, thereby taking out Shukaku at the same time."

Feeling cold, Baki walked over to Hirohiko's desk and leaned his hip against it, crossing his arms over his chest. For a man who adored children and had already lost his beloved wife, losing Gaara would likely kill Hirohiko. "Your father, I presume." Only The Ambassador would insist on such a course of action.

"The Ambassador tells me that the daimyo will consider Suna a liability that is destroying itself as long as Shukaku is free." Hirohiko put one hand over his eyes. "He says the daimyo feels we are inept because Konoha doesn't suffer the same issues we do; the kyuubi only got free once and was immediately contained again. We're losing face the longer this goes on, and with it, missions and funding."

Baki's eyes narrowed with irritation. "But their hosts are all from the Uzamaki clan, who specialize in seals. None of the other villages have had any luck with their hosts, either."

"They don't care," Hirohiko said sharply, clearly just as enraged. "They just want me to kill my son!"

Baki shivered faintly. _God, what a nightmare. _"What are you going to do?"

Hirohiko took a long, shuddering breath. "The Council is of the same mind as the daimyo and The Ambassador. They want Gaara stopped at any cost. The Ambassador is eating up their support and using it as added pressure on me, but I've managed to convince him to let me give Gaara one last test."

"Test?" Baki didn't like the sounds of this. "You'll put pressure on Gaara to see if he can maintain control of Shukaku? Given what's happened so far, I doubt Gaara could pass."

Hirohiko was silent for several moments. "If he actually did pass, I could use it as leverage to get Gaara's life spared."

Baki understood immediately. It was a one in a million chance, but if it worked, it would be worth it. "And if he fails?"

"Whoever is sent to assassinate Gaara would die, of course." Hirohiko peered up at Baki. "No one would ever succeed. I can only hope that the pressure of having to either murder a child or die via sand coffin would make the assassin beg off the mission or abort at the last moment."

Baki blinked with the shock. "You're refusing to do it."

"I'm the only one who would succeed," Hirohiko pointed out. "If I refuse to kill my son with my own hands, no one should say anything to me as long as I send assassins instead. Since all the assassins will fail, then if I refuse, Gaara should live. All I have to do is keep insisting that I will eventually succeed in taking Gaara's life. My only other option would be to kill Gaara and then commit hara kiri, but that would orphan Kankuro and Temari."

"I don't want that," Baki said, horrified. He watched Hirohiko silently for a few moments, hurting. "Although if anything did happen to you, I would look after your children, even if I had to abduct them to keep them away from your father."

Hirohiko relaxed faintly. "Thank you. I hope it doesn't come to that." He paused, chewing on his lip in a way Baki hadn't seen him do in ten years. "I confided this in you so I didn't lose my mind. But you know you can never tell anyone. I can never let on, even for a moment, even to my own children. Everyone must believe I fully intend to kill Gaara, or I will forfeit both my life and Gaara's." He met Baki's gaze steadily. "You know that The Ambassador would not hesitate to assassinate Gaara and me both if he sensed hesitation or noncompliance."

"I understand," Baki murmured. He had seen Hirohiko take black eyes, split lips, broken ribs, and deep gashes from his father. Given the odd, panicking way Hirohiko reacted in certain situations, Baki also suspected something more had happened between them, although he couldn't prove it. Knowing The Ambassador, it had likely been the result of his rage over Hirohiko's sexuality. "I don't want Gaara or you to die by that man's hand."

"Nor do I," Hirohiko whispered. "We are an even match, I think. I can't assume I would win against him. And with the Council backing him instead of me . . ." His gaze fell to his hand, where he still wore both his wedding ring and the red and gold ring Baki had given him. "Still . . . Gaara . . ."

And with that, Baki knew Hirohiko would accept all the guilt as his own because of the level of damage it would do. "You're never going to forgive yourself for this, are you?"

Hirohiko stood, moving stiffly as though he were twenty years older than he was. "No. My son will hate me as long as he lives." He sighed. "But if he lives, then I will accept that burden for having failed to protect him better."

Baki discarded all pretense and pulled Hirohiko into his arms, hugging him. Hirohiko accepted the hug, letting Baki fold him into his embrace. After a tense moment, Hirohiko let go of himself, leaned his head on Baki's shoulder, and wept, clearly crushed. Horrified by the impending tragedy, Baki held him closely, rubbing his back.

Baki decided that, in the end, he really hated the world he'd been born into for making those he loved suffer so much.

* * *

Gaara stared at Baki with wide eyes.

Kankuro stared at his plate, tears in his eyes. "It's not fair," he whispered. "It's not fair. No one should ever be forced into a position like that."

"I don't understand," Gaara said, his tone far more anxious than usual. "If he really did love me, then why did he order Yashamaru to do the test? Why order Yashamaru to kill me? One or the other of us would certainly die, and when I spoke to him, Otousama said Yashamaru was his right-hand man. Although he also said Yashamaru hated him . . ."

Baki shook his head. "Yashamaru never hated your father. Or you. Your father was merely convinced that he should hate him. If your uncle had hated your father, he never would've cooperated with him so well. You don't make a right-hand man out of someone who hates you." He nodded toward Kankuro. "You've made your siblings your right-hand men. You did this because you love them and trust them; they work this well with you because they love and trust you. It was the same for your father and uncle. Your father loved your mother's entire family. They pulled him in, took care of him, and gave him the real family he'd never had. It's an extreme pity your maternal grandparents died when you were so young. They would've made a real difference in your life had they lived."

"Kankuro and Temari always say that." Gaara's gaze fell to his lap. He knew Kankuro had been closest to their grandpa and Temari to their grandma.

"They were awesome," Kankuro agreed.

Baki stood and moved his chair over beside Gaara's, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "I asked your father about the test afterward. When you told me about the test, you said your uncle reported he could've declined the order; this was true. Your father would've allowed him to bow out without reprimand due to the personal nature of the test. Your father said Yashamaru thought the test was unwise; however, he did understand what was riding on it. He agreed to the order because he hoped he could throw the test. He hoped that if he — someone you knew, trusted, and loved — administered the test, that you might decide he was lying or be unable to kill him. If you saw through the lies, then you might be able to retain control of Shukaku."

Gaara panicked. "But I didn't see through anything! I believed it! And I attacked him without even knowing who he was. It's my fault, I — "

"No, it's not," Baki interrupted him gently, folding him into a hug. "You were six, and your father reported that your uncle's acting skills were a bit too fine. Your father watched the test using his gold dust eye, but your grandfather and Yashamaru's ANBU captain were both spying on you as well. Your father felt sure that Yashamaru detected the extra spies and had to factor them into his performance. Your father always believed that Yashamaru opted in the end to sacrifice himself to save your life, although it's true he was going to die either way after your initial sand coffin."

"God!" Gaara barely held back the hysteria. "If I hadn't used sand coffin on him — "

"Don't," Baki whispered. "When Yashamaru approached you that night, he didn't know you were already distressed. No one knew until you finally told your siblings and me about the girl who slammed the door in your face. Shukaku was already roused, something that didn't get factored in. The guilt isn't yours to carry. It never was. You didn't ask to be Shukaku's host."

Gaara leaned into Baki's embrace, miserable.

Kankuro watched, his stomach tied into knots. "So you're saying Chichue didn't tell Gaara the truth about our mother because it was all part of his attempts to hide his protection of Gaara?"

"Sadly, yes." Baki gazed at Kankuro with concern. "Your father was utterly paranoid about The Ambassador discovering the ruse."

"What about after Ojiisama died?" Gaara asked, confused again. He wanted to believe his father loved him, but he was too afraid it couldn't be true — not to mention still confused.

Glancing at Gaara, Kankuro paused. "Wait. Ojiisama died exactly one month after my fourteenth birthday. So he died on June 15."

Baki nodded. "And we now know that your father died sometime between June 28-July 5. He was ambushed by Orochimaru and killed on his way to Konoha; otherwise, he would've been there to watch the preliminary fights."

Gaara did the mental calculation. "He only had a week to unravel it all. He must've decided to wait until the Chuunin Exam was over. Or the invasion, rather."

With a frown, Baki considered his adopted sons. "Honestly, I have wondered all this time what your father really did or didn't agree to do with Orochimaru. We had no orders for an invasion prior to part one of the exam. We put together the invasion mission during the month between part one and part two of the exam."

Gaara jumped to the logical conclusion. "If Otousama really were cooperating with Orochimaru to invade Konoha, then Orochimaru would've had no reason to kill him and steal his face. He would only need to kill him and assume his identity if it were the only way to ensure Suna's part in the invasion."

Instantly, Kankuro felt a massive weight lift from his chest. "Chichue didn't enter an agreement with Orochimaru." The thought his father had done something so evil had been eating his soul slowly.

"Exactly. He died because he refused. Orochimaru had nothing to gain from killing him, otherwise." Gaara straightened. "Not to mention that if Orochimaru really did intend to betray him either way, then the more logical course of action would be to capture Otousama."

"Why?" Baki was curious about this logic.

"So he could study magnetism release." Gaara gazed at him steadily. "It's a rare release, almost as rare was wood."

Baki knew immediately that Gaara was right. "Of course. Merely killing him for the sake of betraying him was a waste. Something had to have forced the issue. If there had been a treaty, then Hirohiko would have merely agreed to let Orochimaru impersonate him in the stands. Killing him would've been unnecessary, not to mention that Orochimaru would've benefited from having Hirohiko fight on his side."

"Naturally." Gaara finally felt like his life was coming into focus. "So in the end, Otousama didn't band together with Orochimaru. Also, as it concerned me, he named himself the guilty party and accepted all the blame because he felt guilty for not managing a better way to protect me. Or, conversely, for not standing up to his father and the council and stopping them." Not that Gaara could say much on that count. He had never stood up to his father, either, and for the entire first year of being Kazekage, Gaara hadn't said a single word during any council meeting. Granted, that had changed . . .

"Absolutely." Baki rubbed Gaara's back. "I'm sorry. I know that only helps a little bit, given what you suffered as a result . . . but I think you should know the truth: your father loved you, too. He simply couldn't see his way to a better method of navigating this mess. But had he been forced to kill you with his own hands . . . he really would've committed hara kiri. It was not something he could've accepted."

Gaara nodded slowly. "I see." He paused. "But I still don't really understand why he was so crushed."

"I never knew all the details," Baki said quietly. "I suspect sexual, physical, verbal, and emotional abuse. Not to mention that the person who was emotionally reconstructing him and helping him heal died very early on."

"Kaasan," Gaara whispered.

"Yes." Baki sounded grim. "Your father had made a lot of progress, only to be crushed all over again when your mother died. She had inserted herself as a bulwark between your grandfather and your father. She was a strong woman, Gaara. Just like your sister. She was helping Hirohiko learn all sorts of things that would have eventually healed him, I believe. But then — "

"She bled to death when I was born prematurely," Gaara interrupted, his voice flat.

Baki gave him a squeeze. "Not your fault. That was no one's fault. Not yours, not Shukaku's, and not your father's, although he blamed himself anyway." He paused, cringing. "Of course, your grandfather conveniently blamed Hirohiko as well."

"What?" Kankuro stirred finally. "Ojiisama blamed him? That's fucking messed up! Why?"

"Just to hurt him more, I think," Baki said, clearly enraged. "The Ambassador was furious that your father had started to break away from him, so he used this chance to 'punish' him for it and get him back under his thumb."

Kankuro's complexion turned ashen. "Oh. God. What a bastard . . ."

Gaara noted the effect and extracted himself from Baki's embrace, maneuvering Kankuro into trading seats with him. Gaara wasn't happy unless everyone else was happy.

Accepting the switch, Kankuro leaned into Baki's arms, resting his head on his shoulder. He was unabashed where it concerned getting hugs from his family. "Chichue didn't deserve all this."

"No," Baki agreed, wrapping Kankuro into a tight hug. "And I think there's one more thing you two should know."

"What's that?" Kankuro asked, soaking in the care.

"Your father did stand up to your grandfather in the end."

Kankuro and Gaara both stared at Baki, stunned.

"He did?" Gaara's voice betrayed his shock.

"He did." Baki smirked. "Your grandfather wasn't assassinated by rogue nin from Iwagakure, like the official report said."

Kankuro straightened, reaching the conclusion instantly. "Chichue killed him!"

Baki tilted his head to the side. "For three very good reasons. Although, sadly, he was injured in the process, which handicapped him the following week when he had to face Orochimaru."

"Tell us," Kankuro said. _Finally,_ he thought, _an end to this parade of tragedy is in sight._


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Thank you to __ShirayukiHime87, Surreptitious Chi X, SpunkyPaperAngel, Mystical Sand, and Ladida for their reviews!_

_Translation notes:  
Niisan— older brother  
Chichue— older form of father previously used by samurai  
Otousama— very formal form of father  
Kaasan— mom  
Ojiisama— very formal form of grandfather  
Jiichan and Baachan— affectionate form of grandpa and grandma  
Sensei— teacher_

_Like I said at the beginning, this story has a mild streak of shounen ai in it._

* * *

**Chapter Four**

"Really, there were four very good reasons your father killed your grandfather," Baki corrected. "One of those reasons would be to avenge himself, but of course he didn't do it for that reason, which is why I say three."

Kankuro had straightened, but at this, he leaned his head back on Baki's shoulder. "Figures." Given everything he'd learned so far, it seemed inescapable as a conclusion.

"Then why?" Gaara asked.

"The issue really started with Kankuro," Baki said, "and then snowballed from there." He looked between them. "Of course, in telling you this story, I am entrusting you with my life and my freedom."

Gaara nodded. "We would never betray you."

Baki was quite certain of that or he wouldn't be willing to tell the story. "For me, this began on June 8th, shortly after I'd submitted your names for the Chuunin Exam. I honestly thought that Hirohiko had summoned me to discuss the exams. As it turned out, however, it was something far different."

* * *

When he approached the Kazekage's office door, Baki knocked on it and said his usual phrase. "It's me."

"Come in." Hirohiko's voice sounded strong, steady, confident. In Baki's mind, this was Hirohiko's  
Command Voice, the one he'd first begun building as a jonin captain and had perfected over the years as Kazekage. By now, the Council of Elders had learned to fear this voice. The colder it got, the harder Hirohiko was going to bust their asses for getting out of line.

Baki opened the door, sweeping into the office and bowing. Then he shut the door behind him. "How may I be of service?"

Hirohiko waved away the formality. "It's a personal matter."

This caught Baki's interest. "Of course."

"Don't say that so quickly," Hirohiko murmured. "You haven't heard my request."

Baki approached the desk, taking in Hirohiko's posture. He was leaning back in his chair, hands interlaced over his stomach; Baki noted that after all these years, Hirohiko still wore the red and gold ring he'd given him. Hirohiko's expression was unguarded, his shoulders relaxed. As usual, he wasn't wearing his hat, only the sea foam green kimono and white haori.

Underneath, Baki sensed a coiled snake, ready to strike.

"You're pissed," Baki summed up easily.

Hirohiko grinned in spite of himself. "You always could tell." He paused. "We have been friends for twenty two years, and still I have no right to ask you what I'm going to ask you. Please understand. This is not a mission of any kind; you are free to say no without any consequences, personal or professional."

Baki was intrigued now. "Very well."

"I'll keep the details from you in case you wish to decline." Hirohiko watched him carefully. "I'm going to ask you to commit murder, and with it treason."

Baki's heart jumped, his pulse increasing. _Good God. What has happened? _He couldn't imagine what Hirohiko was referring to. "Do you wish me to kill you?" He knew the answer would be no, but he had to take out even the remotest possibility.

Hirohiko chuckled. "No. I wish you to assist me in killing The Ambassador."

Baki was so shocked his breath caught in his throat. For a moment, he merely stared. "You — you — " He tried to pull together his scattered thoughts. "You've decided to kill your father?"

"Indeed I have." Hirohiko's chakra was quiet, subdued . . . sizzling.

"Thank God!" Baki's only real concern was what had prompted this decision. "What happened?"

Hirohiko's jaw clenched, and he stood, walking over to the nearest small, round window. He stared out blankly. "There are three reasons, actually. It started a month ago. Kankuro . . . changed suddenly. He got jumpy, sullen, secretive. He stopped hanging out with his friends. He started wearing oversized clothes. I finally managed to corner him on his birthday and ask him what was wrong. At first he blew me off, but then that night he came to my study and coughed up something that . . . I just can't abide."

Baki had a very bad feeling about this. Kankuro had only been on his team for a month, but he could tell something was bothering him. After all, he'd been around him off and on for most his life. "His grandfather . . .?"

"Sodomized him," Hirohiko said bluntly.

"_What?_" Baki heard his pulse in his ears for a moment he was so angry.

Hirohiko turned to face him. "Apparently it was an act of rage, not a sexual act. The Ambassador lost his temper and decided to vent it . . . 'creatively.' Still, it is what it is. And I will not let it stand. On top of that, Kankuro confided in me two previous incidents in which his grandfather lost his temper and hit him."

Baki was so horrified he had trouble thinking for a moment. "I must note that you seem enraged . . . but not surprised." This told him much about his theory that Hirohiko had suffered sexual abuse as well.

His gaze sliding off to the side, Hirohiko preoccupied himself with staring at the plant on the corner of his desk. "Well. I tried very hard to make sure my children never ended up alone with their grandfather. I'm appalled to have to admit I failed."

"I understand, but try not to beat yourself up," Baki said gently.

Hirohiko sighed. "You know I can't help myself." He paused.

"The second reason?" Baki asked.

Hirohiko nodded. "I was trying to figure out how to confront The Ambassador when I caught him ogling Temari. She hasn't said anything to me, but I saw the way she looked at him. She knows, and she's both angry and afraid."

"You're afraid he'll do something sexual to her, except with sexual motivation this time," Baki said.

"Exactly." Hirohiko took a deep breath. "And just when I thought it couldn't get worse, The Ambassador sent me a message via hawk today."

Baki frowned. "That can't be good."

"That is an understatement." Hirohiko pulled himself up to his full height, which still left him almost six inches shorter than Baki. "The Ambassador expressed acute dissatisfaction in my failure to assassinate Gaara. When he returns home from the capitol next week, he intends to ensure my success this time."

Baki felt abruptly cold. "Ensure your success?" His stomach turned. "Oh, God. Don't tell me he intends to personally oversee your killing Gaara?"

Hirohiko's complexion had turned grey, although he kept his shoulders pulled back. "I can only assume so." He exhaled heavily. "Even if we assassinate The Ambassador, you know the Council won't stop. Eventually the assassination attempts will succeed; they won't stop until they do. Unless Gaara grows powerful enough . . ."

Although Hirohiko trailed off, Baki still heard the rest of the sentence: _He will die, and I will be responsible. _Such was Hirohiko's worldview: massive personal responsibility. "So you've decided to take out your father."

"I can't ensure Gaara's safety, but he will be safer. However, I can ensure Kankuro's and Temari's safety." Hirohiko nodded to himself. "The Ambassador has left me no choice. All three of my children's safeties are at stake."

_And you fail, once again, to count your own, _Baki noted. He walked up to his former sensei, his friend, the man he'd cared about for twenty two years now, and took him by the shoulders, squeezing them gently. "I said it before; I'll say it again — I'll protect you. You want me to watch your back and balance the odds while you fight your father, yes?"

Hirohiko slumped under that touch. "Yes. Even though he's older now, he's no less powerful. We need to even the odds for me. Otherwise, I'll be too evenly matched with him, and our jutsu are badly matched."

That was quite true. The Ambassador could summon water to convert to ice even in the middle of the desert. "It's no problem. I'll do everything in my power to help." And Baki's strength wasn't inconsequential. He'd graduated from the academy at age eight because he was a genius, and he'd never lost his edge.

Hirohiko's expression softened, color returning to his face. "Thank you, Baki. With you at my side, I can have faith I'll win."

In that instant, Baki knew the moment he'd been waiting for during the last twelve years had arrived. Ever since Karura had died, Baki had wanted to woo Hirohiko for himself; he had wanted to be the one who protected Hirohiko and helped him heal. However, Baki had only been eighteen, which he'd feared was too young, and Hirohiko had grieved horribly. Baki had hesitated, and then Hirohiko had buried himself in trying to save his village from financial ruin.

The moment for action had finally arrived. Baki reached up, cupping Hirohiko's cheek gently and tilting up his face. With slow deliberation, giving Hirohiko time to comprehend and react, Baki leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

When Baki pulled back, he found Hirohiko was gazing up at him with a blush.

"You've wanted to do that for some time," Hirohiko murmured.

Baki blushed as well. "Years," he admitted. "After all, I made up my mind when I was eight that I would protect you."

"I remember." Hirohiko chuckled, only to grow sad. "I wasn't ready before."

"I know," Baki whispered. "But you chose to let me protect you now."

Closing his eyes, Hirohiko nodded. "I did. You're the only one I'd trust with this. Who I'd trust with my children's safety. That's why I made you their sensei."

"I'm honored." Baki had no idea what would happen next, but he wished he could be the one to ease Hirohiko's pain and help save his children. _I want to be the one to protect you. All of you._

* * *

Kankuro and Gaara gazed at Baki silently, both with tears in their eyes.

"Otousama killed him to save us," Gaara murmured.

"Our family . . ." Kankuro began, then trailed off, heartbroken.

Baki hugged Kankuro closely, rubbing his arm. "I admit I was . . ." He trailed off, his voice hoarse. "Honestly, I haven't completely gotten over it. I was so close to . . . And then he was killed."

For a long moment, none of them spoke.

"I did at least mange to protect Hirohiko that day," Baki murmured. "He looked up a complicated and quite ancient long-range teleportation jutsu, and we teleported out into the desert to ambush The Ambassador. It was a hell of a fight, but we won. It took a lot of planning, but clearly we didn't get caught, either. So ended the danger to Temari and you." Baki squeezed Kankuro, then looked to Gaara. "And reduced the danger to you, even if it didn't eliminate it fully."

Gaara chewed this over for several minutes. "Did you notice?"

"Notice?" Baki asked.

"When Otousama wasn't Otousama anymore," Gaara finished quietly.

Baki's jaw clenched. "I wasn't around him much during that month, honestly. We all worked so hard to prepare for that invasion. What little I was around him, I thought he was acting weird, but I was afraid he had cracked from the psychological backlash of killing his father. I was worried, but I couldn't find a good time to question him about it. And then I found out . . . it wasn't him. The real Hirohiko was dead." His chest tightened painfully.

Kankuro wrapped his arms around Baki and hugged him. "So all four of us have been hurt. Just all in different ways."

Baki nodded.

Gaara resumed his silence again. Then, finally: "I wish I could've known this a long time ago. I thought the first time Otousama showed me love was on the battlefield during the War. It would've helped to know that he had been trying to protect me all along — even if I decided his method was misguided. I would've said much different things that day. His surprise that I turned out so well just fed into my childhood impressions of him, though."

"He tried to stitch it all back together with what he had at his disposal, which wasn't much," Baki said. "Even that he did because he loved you."

Gaara closed his eyes, fighting back the urge to cry. So much pain, so much misunderstanding, so much missed love . . . all because of one warped man with a vendetta. "I was trying to forgive Otousama before. I do forgive him now." He could radically forgive his father; it turned out that the person he couldn't forgive was his grandfather — as much as for the sake of the rest of his family as himself.

All at once, a weight Gaara hadn't even been aware of lifted off his shoulders.

Kankuro relaxed in Baki's arms. The gap had finally been bridged.

Baki nodded. "I'm glad I could help you. It's hard to live with the burden of being unloved. My adoptive father saved me and gave me a real home, but it still hurts that my birth father couldn't love me the same way. If you don't have to live with that impression, then you shouldn't."

"Agreed," Gaara said quietly.

"But that still leaves you," Baki said, looking to Kankuro. "I can help resolve the conflict of your disparate feelings for your father, but that doesn't change the fact you felt stuck in the middle and were hurt by it."

Kankuro stared at Baki's chest. _He knows me too well. _"Yeah," he mumbled.

Frowning in concern, Baki tried to think of a line of attack on this issue. He stroked Kankuro's back gently. "You spend your entire life trying to be in the position no one can argue with. If you can't think of anything, you remain silent, so no one knows you disagree. But . . . that didn't really work for you when it was a disagreement between Gaara and your father, did it?"

Kankuro stared at his lap. Admittedly, he had asked for help with this, but it didn't make it any easier to talk about. "Well, no . . . not really. I was stuck in a place where I couldn't take sides. I didn't want to, I mean. Except it felt like I was being forced to. But I didn't want there to be any fighting between them at all. I didn't want everything to be blowing up. But it was."

Gaara felt terrible. Now that he knew that part of his actions had been based on pure misunderstandings, he felt responsible.

"Whichever side you took would blow apart your family," Baki said, squeezing him in his embrace. "That's how you probably felt. Because I know you. You always take on too much responsibility for yourself. You would have seen a family drama in relation to what you were doing, what you were saying to cause a problem. When you instinctively sided with your father — with your heart even if not with your mouth — you felt responsible for the results." Baki's voice grew quiet. "But at the time, you were trying to speak the truth. Nothing more. Just because Gaara didn't see it doesn't mean it wasn't true."

Gaara bowed his head. "Yes. I'm sorry."

Instantly flummoxed, Kankuro had no idea what to do with that apology. "No . . . I mean, I understand why you thought Chichue was evil. Who wouldn't in your position? You don't have to apologize. But . . ." He had no idea how to explain what was hurting him. He looked to Baki. "It _did_end up looking like my responsibility. I know it wasn't, mostly, in the sense that it was Gaara and Chichue who were 'fighting.' But I was supposed to be the legendary good older brother and good son at the same time. I was trying to appease both sides at the same time. Chichue was a good dad, and I knew it. I could never say anything else. But Gaara was in hell, and I was trying to reach him. How was I supposed to do that, precisely, when we didn't agree on something so basic? I didn't want to end up the bad guy, but no matter what, I would be. Because there was no middle ground. I was supposed to 'choose a side.' Temari got around that by refusing to be on anyone's side at all except her own. She grabbed her friends and made herself scarce. But she's a very different personality than I am." He wondered, in the end, if she hadn't had the better idea. She seemed less wounded about it than he was.

"Your mother was gone," Baki said. "If she had been there, she could have provided a shelter — perhaps prevented it all from happening. But she died. In a sense, that was what started the entire catastrophe."

He was putting together pieces of what happened, trying to get a clearer sense of the problem. In the days when the pressure on Kankuro had been the worst, he hadn't been there. Actually, he had been recruited into ANBU for a select period of time to deal with an international crisis neither Wind nor Lightning 'officially' knew about, though both countries had been involved in taking action.

Baki sighed. "You were left with two sides: a crushed father and an angry Gaara. Both sides were reacting to Karura's death." He paused. "But neither side took into account something very important: how you felt about Karura's death."

Gaara glanced at Kankuro with wide eyes. Kankuro had never spoken about their mother. Their mother was one of many topics Kankuro never touched.

Kankuro suddenly found the wood grain the kitchen table to be endlessly fascinating.

"Kankuro . . . " Baki said gently. "Your feelings matter too."

Struck by this turn in the conversation, Gaara was intensely embarrassed that he had never once considered what their mother's death had done to Kankuro. He had been self-absorbed the entire time, calling their mother his mother, invalidating Kankuro and Temari as his siblings, and claiming a family pain as his pain alone. _That was wrong._"Your feelings do matter," Gaara said. "I was wrong to say or imply otherwise."

Kankuro laid his head on Baki's shoulder again, although his gaze was stuck to the table. There were black specks in the grain. "I felt all alone." That was the simplest way he could say it. "Other kids went home to their moms after school. Never mind that Kaasan was apparently a total tomboy; I know she would've been there for us in whatever way fit her style. Those other kids seemed to live charmed, special lives. I was . . . the freak. Plenty of kids had fathers who died on missions. But mothers? No way. And Chichue worked crazy hours to hold together our village. Temari's really outgoing and makes friends easily, so she was off rock climbing or whatever as soon as school was out. Gaara was hiding on the rooftops. So I was the kid who came home alone to an empty house."

Kankuro sighed. "I kept thinking that if I had a mom, maybe I wouldn't be so alone. Maybe I would be normal. Maybe I could be special. Maybe she would love me, you know? But to hear the tale told, the only person she ever loved was Gaara." He hadn't meant to sound so bitter about it. "Not even Chichue or Yashamaru." Everyone well knew how much Yashamaru loved his sister, but no one spoke of it as vice versa. "So she was this perfect, perfect mother, the most perfect mommie ever ever, but the only person in the whole world she cared about was Gaara." He cringed and wouldn't look at Gaara when he said it. "So I knew all along Yashamaru had lied to Gaara when he said Kaasan hated him. Chichue told me that Kaasan had died swearing she would protect Gaara forever and that she was in Gaara's sand. But she was dead, and worse than that, she seemed to have loved Gaara more than us."

Gaara wilted inside in horror. Outwardly, he stayed upright in his chair, though it took every ounce of stoicism he had.

Overwhelmed by the magnitude of the situation, Baki hugged Kankuro. "So you felt . . . unloved and abandoned. Meanwhile, these two people, your father and Gaara, fought over who you would love more, when . . . in your eyes . . . neither one of them might love you at all. Because that was how your wound worked." He took a guess. "You weren't merely stuck between two sides. You were stuck in the hole Karura left."

Kankuro experienced a blazing flare of insight. "Oh, God. You're right." He had never thought of it that way, but when he put all the pieces together, it fit. "Both of them wanted me to love them. They needed me to. I was very protective; Chichue told me once I started rescuing cats when I was three. I was just born that way: fiercely protective and . . . caring." It was hard to claim virtues. "Gaara was being eaten by Shukaku and had lost Yashamaru; Chichue had been — and still was being — abused by his father and had lost his wife. They both really needed someone to love them and protect them. So they ended up making a grab for me in their own ways. I was supposed to pick a side, but I couldn't. I couldn't not love one of them. In the meantime, I felt completely alone and abandoned, too. Jiichan had died." Kankuro had cherished his maternal grandpa. "So I was in hell already. So I thought Kaasan hadn't loved me, and Gaara didn't love me. At the same time, neither Chichue nor Temari were around much. Plus Jiichan and Baachan were dead." He had lost both his maternal grandparents in rapid succession.

As he had always believed, Suna was hell.

Gaara flinched. "I'm sorry I forced you into the position you were in. I wish that . . . I wish that Otousama had apologized to you, too, the way he apologized to me. It's not fair that he didn't have a chance to."

In his own way, Baki felt responsible. If he'd somehow inserted himself into the situation sooner, Kankuro might not have been crushed so badly by all the misplaced responsibilities. He rubbed Kankuro's back.

Kankuro leaned his head back, gazing up at the ceiling as though he could gaze straight into heaven. "It's okay. I mean, I wouldn't turn down an apology, and I do feel totally ripped off that Temari and I didn't get to talk to Chichue, too. But that's not your fault. And . . . I don't need the apology. Chichue wasn't perfect, like I said before, but in the end, I know he really did love me and want me. He wasn't trying to hurt me. The one who was trying to hurt me — and did hurt me — was Ojiisama. Ojiisama is the one I won't forgive." He looked to Gaara. "I also know that what happened with you is directly tied to Shukaku, and Shukaku's presence inside of you can be directly traced back to Ojiisama. I appreciate the apology, but it's not the most important thing to me. The fact you love me and want me as a brother now is most important."

Reluctantly, Gaara relaxed. He murmured, "Niisan, you always know the deepest place inside of me. And you always help me. You always loved me. I know that now. And I . . . " His cheeks burned, but he didn't know if he'd ever get another opportunity to speak like this one. "I always loved you. Or else I would never have felt betrayed when you seemed to side against me." He looked down at the table. "I never didn't want you to be my brother. All the acid words came from the accusations I felt inside because I felt you'd done something wrong. Which I know now you didn't do." He took in a sharp breath. "I accused you falsely."

Having confessed that, Gaara forced himself to look at his brother. "Kankuro . . . I appreciate your forgiveness. And the way you love me. I never want to hurt you again. I hurt you with those words because I listened to Shukaku. Shukaku always told me to hurt those who hurt me. He was just a demon, urging me on to the wrong decisions, the wrong course. When I did the things he suggested, I always ended up hurting others and myself. I appreciate your forgiveness . . . And I won't forgive Shukaku." He shook his head. "Not ever." He felt a twinge of pain in his heart and touched his chest. "I never got what I wanted until I stopped listening to him."

Feeling a surge of warmth, Kankuro reached out and took Gaara's hand into his, squeezing it gently. "Thank you," he said simply, his cheeks warm. He appreciated the explanation, and more than that, he cherished knowing Gaara had loved him and wanted him as a brother all along.

Gaara squeezed Kankuro's hand in return, closing his eyes and breathing out. He forced his heartbeat to level. His body turned warm in response to Kankuro's touch; chakra passed between them. If he didn't look at it directly, he could see where their chakra auras touched, intertwining. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Communication was so easy now, in a way it had never been before. When they were younger, none of them had been able to communicate at all. Baki and his adoptive father, Tadashi, had helped them by setting an example for them, not to mention things were better now.

Baki smiled. He was glad to see some of the last splinters of the pain and lies come out. "I love you both, as well." He mentally recapped. "I think we are closer to having an answer. You didn't merely feel put in the middle, Kankuro. You fell into a role that wasn't yours, left behind by a death, a tragedy. You felt unable to fill it and blamed yourself. At the same time, your position was voiceless. Hirohiko and Gaara were heard. You weren't. You felt unable to act and unable to speak. You were frozen."

Frozen. The word hit Kankuro in a way he couldn't explain. He ended up staring at the table again.

Baki hesitated. "In truth, perhaps this is a wound not about being in the middle so much as it is a wound about being voiceless, about your feelings and your pain not counting in the group equation of what's important."

Concerned at the way Kankuro's chakra flickered in response to Baki's observations, Gaara squeezed Kankuro's hand.

"'You don't love me,'" Kankuro quoted. The words seemed to come out of nowhere — likely from one of those memories he'd repressed. "'You don't love me. You're cold. Your heart is frozen. How could you not love me?'" It was screamed. An accusation, cutting and real.

Kankuro had assumed the persona of a punk when he wasn't one. He'd assumed a punk mask to protect himself, but at the same time, he'd been convinced he really was cold. He didn't let people touch him; he understood now it was because of what his grandfather had done to him. He didn't get close but to one person at a time, choosing them very carefully. Temari, Gaara, and Baki had all stayed, along with his best friend, Shiro, so he'd finally built up four. But he felt that in the end, all his love and affection were trapped on the inside of him, not flowing outward easily until Gaara had finally shown signs of accepting him.

Gaara almost fell out of his chair. He knew he was instantly shocked pale. "How did you do that?" He was surprised to feel himself shaking. "That was a dream. That was one of the worst dreams I ever had."

Baki stared at Gaara. He couldn't have expected that reaction. "What do you mean?"

"That's from a dream." Gaara tried to explain to both Kankuro and Baki, though his lips were numb. His gaze  
went to Kankuro. "You made me remember it. It was one of the worst dreams I ever had as a child. I had this dream that . . . that I . . . or . . . or Mother . . . or someone . . . was yelling at someone else. I couldn't remember who was doing what when I woke up, but I knew . . . those horrible words." He bit his lip. "Except there's more. 'How could you not love me when I carried you this entire time?'"

He realized with a sickening thud in his stomach that there was only one person — one _thing_— that would dare say something like that: Shukaku.

"You say it . . . you say it because it's real." Gaara found himself holding Kankuro's hand tightly. "It's real. Shukaku said that. He came out and said that. Didn't he?"

Kankuro stared hard at the table as he tried to remember. The wood grain had a pattern of upside-down _U'_s in it, all filled with black specks. "Yes . . ." he said slowly. Gaara's additional words helped trigger the memory: an eight-year-old Gaara, his face halfway transformed, his right leg and right arm covered in sand, a tail swishing behind him. Kankuro had been confused about which one was speaking to him: Gaara or Shukaku. It was his first time seeing Shukaku, but up until this moment, all he'd remembered from the experience was that he hadn't been able to eat much for days. "There was so much screaming. Rage. Even tears." It was still all very blurry. "'How could you do this? How could you do this to me? When I loved you and cared for you and took care of you! How could you do this? You betrayed me!" Words came without clear images, but they still seemed to thunder in his skull.

Baki jerked faintly, surprised. "But you didn't betray Shukaku."

"Shukaku's favorite tactic was to impersonate Mother," Gaara said, feeling hollow inside. He realized he was instinctively feeling the place where Shukaku had been, testing the emptiness. He was glad for the emptiness. It proved he was alone. That Shukaku was gone.

Baki fell silent, horrified.

"He could even do her voice," Gaara said. "When he wanted to." He stared at the table as well. "Or a voice. I guess I should say that, since I never heard Kaasan's real voice. Only Shukaku's."

Kankuro nodded. He could finally narrow in on the sound. "It was a woman's voice." That's what had scared him so much, hurt him so much. His father had said his mother's spirit was in the sand, protecting Gaara, and then there was a woman's voice speaking to him from a little boy's half-fanged mouth. It had made his fear of Shukaku complete. "You achieved perfect possession that night," he remembered absently. "I saw the full Shukaku for the first time. Chichue had a hell of a fight on his hands, but he managed to slow Shukaku down with his gold dust. Someone else — I don't remember who — went up there and woke you up." He shuddered faintly, more of the memory returning. "I was curled up in a ball. In the corner where two hallways intersected. Curled up in a ball, the screaming echoing in my head. I had stood very still while that _thing_yelled at me. I was cold and sweaty. I went to my room and fell on my bed and didn't move for hours. I stared and stared out the window. Curled into the fetal position. And then the idea came: I could stop it all. I could stop it all if I just killed myself."

Kankuro hadn't remembered this at all. It was so raw and so unreal he just kept coughing it up as though he'd remembered it all along. "No one wanted me. No one needed me. I was alone and unloved. And I had betrayed my mother. I didn't deserve to live. And I wanted the pain to end. So I got up, went to the storage closet, found the tool chest, and located the razor blade." He looked down at his arms. He didn't remember what happened next, only bandages on his wrists and arms. "I remember overhearing someone say I'd never write or do puppet jutsu again. I tried to panic, but I was in too much of a hell to feel it." He blinked slowly. "Chichue must've . . . done something. Brought someone in. I dunno. I don't remember it all." He looked to Baki.

Turning pale, Baki hugged Kankuro closely. "There was only one person at that time who could have known enough medical jutsu to fix your hands, wrists, and arms. Chiyo-baasama must have come in and done it. She hadn't retired yet." Not until after Baki left ANBU, his mission completed.

Gaara felt ill. He inspected Kankuro's wrist, still clinging to Kankuro's hand. "Not even a scar . . . "

"There wouldn't be," Baki said. "Not at Chiyo-baasama's level." Suddenly it troubled him, all the things Hirohiko hadn't told him. His teacher had always kept all the worst things inside. Things like this. No wonder Hirohiko had been eaten from the inside out.

"I don't remember," Gaara whispered. He shut his eyes, and then opened them again. He didn't feel any less ill. "I don't remember any of it. It's like . . . a dream."

"Don't blame yourself," Baki said. "Please. It's Shukaku's fault."

Gaara swallowed and nodded. "Okay."

Kankuro nodded numbly. "It all came out of something innocent. I learned at the academy that Shukaku was purely offensive. So I went home and asked Chichue why the sand automatically defended you. He explained about Kaasan. That's all." It had all been completely straightforward, and yet Kankuro had managed to draw the wrong conclusions, just like Gaara had.

Gaara wanted to cry. He squeezed Kankuro's hand.

"It all goes back to The Ambassador," Baki said. In the face of this numbing level of pain, his logical side kicked in. "Shukaku was enabled to do this damage by The Ambassador, when he forced his son — whom he knew was pliable from the years of abuse — to use Gaara as Shukaku's new vessel."

Gaara flinched. "It all repeats. I was worn down by Shukaku until I was convinced the only way to feel alive was killing others."

"All abusers work the same way," Baki said quietly.

"And I was convinced I should kill myself," Kankuro murmured. When he'd asked for help about feeling stuck in the middle, he never expected stuff like this to come out. He looked to Baki with wide eyes, suddenly horrified. "Oh, God . . . Baki, did Chichue ever . . . Did he ever consider suicide? Did you ever have to talk him out of . . .? Did you ever walk in on him . . .?" He had to ask. Because he felt he had part of his father's heart, too, not just his mother's. "Did he ever feel so guilty that he thought he should kill himself in penance?"

Baki froze, taken off guard by the question. His mind went blank. He forced himself to think through the barrier, and then realized he'd frozen in panic. "There was a time . . . No, more than one time . . . " He shook his head. "Hirohiko . . . he acted out his impulses in many ways. Sometimes he would say that if he died in battle it would be no tragedy. That was one reason why . . . " He swallowed. "I was so heartbroken to hear that he'd died in a struggle against Orochimaru. I was convinced that . . . " He felt guilty. He'd never planned on coughing this up. Baki forced himself to say it. "I think that your father didn't fight back." He couldn't look at either of them. "According to the information on both Orochimaru and your father, Hirohiko should have been able to fight Orochimaru to a standstill. With the aid of two bodyguards — the men who died alongside your father — Orochimaru should have been history. Not the other way around." Baki winced. "I'm sorry. It's just a suspicion. I don't know if you should take me seriously."

"I do," Gaara said quietly.

Kankuro wondered if Orochimaru had two bodyguards with him as well, but no one knew. Also, Baki had said their father had a lingering injury from fighting his father. However, it made sense that if their father's guilt weighed more than his will to live, he wouldn't have stood a chance. Orochimaru would've killed him easily. "Oh, God . . ." The worst part was that he understood. Shiro's mom had once told him that 97 percent of the people who attempt suicide don't actually mean to die. It was generally a cry for help. Only three percent meant to die.

Kankuro had meant to die. Even without the full memory, he somehow knew that.

The apparent level of damage he'd done to his wrists and arms was further evidence. It would take a lot of willpower for a ten-year-old to cut himself that brutally. Not to mention that Kankuro was the kind of straightforward person who did what he meant. He also didn't cry out for help; he had always suffered in silence.

"Chichue . . ." Kankuro wished there were a way to save his father. It wasn't enough that his father had heard Gaara say he forgave him.

And abruptly he found himself trying to fix it all again. He looked to Gaara. "Gaara . . . the other reason you were convinced you were right about Chichue all this time was because when you saw him during the War, he said he'd test your value with his own hands this time." He looked to Baki instead. "If he really did love Gaara — and I know he did — why did he do that?"

Baki was startled, but he found himself smiling. Oddly, hearing that his sensei said those words eased a pain he didn't know that he was feeling. "His own hands, ne?" He glanced at Kankuro and Gaara and saw he had to explain. "For all his life, Hirohiko worried about what others thought. Even though he learned to speak his mind over the years, he never valued his own opinions enough."

Kankuro felt resonance with that; he did that, also.

Pausing, Baki shook his head slightly in wonder. "I think . . . in death . . . he changed that. When Hirohiko came back, he might have felt as hopeless as before, but apparently being dead freed him enough to make his own feelings matter. He said, 'This time, I'll test Gaara myself.'" Baki glanced at Gaara. "One of his greatest pains was hearing what people would say about you. I think he saw you and saw an opportunity to set things right. He must have said to himself, 'I will make up my own mind for myself.' And in spite of the Edo Tensei, in spite of everything going on, he was determined to prove your worth."

Baki could picture Hirohiko, finally holding his head high when it came to his personal life. Finally pulling through his command and determination to something he personally believed in. It made him feel better about Hirohiko falling victim to the Edo Tensei. _Perhaps there was a purpose after all._"I suppose," he murmured, "that you could have never known what your father meant by such mysterious words."

"No," Gaara agreed. "I never could have known he ever doubted himself. To me, he always seemed . . . removed. Regal and confident."

"You only ever saw the Kazekage persona," Baki said. "I see."

Nodding slowly, Kankuro decided he was satisfied with all that bad been revealed. Still, it was all a mess. A very big mess. None of the pieces fit together perfectly and completely, but that was because it was a story full of demons, abusers, and carefully constructed lies and performances. A montage of disaster in which everyone had been hurt and the true instigator had nearly gotten away scot free. "Please tell me Ojiisama died horribly."

Baki chuckled. "The worst." He couldn't help but take pleasure in the way The Ambassador had been murdered. He'd wanted to kill the man ever since he found out his beloved sensei was being abused. Thanks to his own experiences, he had no mercy for abusers. There was not a question in his mind whether they deserved the mythical 'second chance'.

With a faint smile, Kankuro leaned his head against Baki's shoulder yet again. "Good."

Gaara couldn't help but be curious. Due to some of the horrible things he'd done, he felt he had a sense of what was terrible and what was not. He trusted in Baki's assessment, knowing that Baki had been through more than one war at this point. Still . . . "What is 'the worst?'"

"Long and painful," Baki explained. He wondered if it would serve any purpose to recount the results of the battle.

Kankuro cringed. He didn't want the details. "If you guys want to discuss that, I'm going to leave the room." He looked at the wall clock. They were all two hours late for work now. "Uh, Gaara?" Gaara could of course choose to come late if he wished; no one could say anything. "You'll have to save Baki's and my asses now." A better thought hit him. "Hey, Gaara? Can I have the day off? I really would just like to go back to bed or something." It was only nine o'clock in the morning, and he was already fried.

Gaara stood and hugged Kankuro and Baki at the same time. "You can both have the day off if you wish."

"I'll go in," Baki said automatically. Then he grinned. "Ah . . . old habit. Whatever you think is best, Gaara-sama."

Gaara snorted. "Mixing work and home titles . . . Sounds odd."

Baki shrugged. "Oops."

Gaara looked to Kankuro. "Please go back to bed, Niisan. You haven't been getting any rest at all, and I'm worried for you. I hope that the things we've said this morning will help your nightmares to ease from your mind."

Frankly, Kankuro wasn't quite sure that he was entirely settled on the issue of being stuck in the middle, but he did know he needed a ton of sleep. Maybe he could process some of it while he slept and awaken with a clearer mind. "Okay," he said, squeezing Baki in his embrace. "Thank you, Baki. That really helped a lot. You, too, Gaara. You both cleared up a bunch of stuff for me."

Baki hugged Kankuro in return and then let him stand. "I'll always be here when you need a hand. That's what fathers are for."

Gaara nodded. "And what brothers are for."

"What family's for," Baki concluded, standing as well.

Gaara smiled.

Kankuro felt more at peace in that moment than he ever had before. Surely Gaara and he could move forward now.

* * *

_A/N: The two bonus chapters are on hiatus right now. Real life is in the way.  
At least for now, consider the story complete._


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